Spin the Bottle
by Alexandri
Summary: A muggle party game leads Neville to do something he'd never have the courage to do on his own. The simple act sets off a chain of events, which he'd never expected.
1. Chapter One

A/N: Hi, I'm new to the HP fandom. Just thought I'm post this and see if it's any good. Alexandri.

* * *

Muggles were masochists. At least that's the conclusion Neville drew as he sat in the circle on the floor of the Room of Requirement. It was Hermione's sixteenth birthday and, with Ginny, Ron, and Harry's help, she'd organized a typical Muggle sweet sixteen party. Ginny invited the entire DA and now they were sitting in the middle of the streamer-decorated room in a large circle with an empty butterbeer bottle in the center. 

Neville watched with increasing dread as Katie Bell spun the bottle. Though he was only slightly worried it would point to him, his main fear was his own turn. As he watched the glass glint in the candlelight as it turned, he wondered why Muggle teens would willingly put themselves in such an uncomfortable and embarrassing situation. The bottle slowed and finally stopped. "Seamus," Hermione announced though they could all see on whom it had landed.

With a giggle and a shrug, Katie got up and walked halfway around the circle to Seamus and knelt beside him. Then she kissed him. It wasn't graphic or overly intimate but Neville clearly saw her nip his lower lip before she stood and went back to her place in the circle. There were only two more spinners before it was Neville's turn.

Colin Creevey was next and, as they went through the motions of the game again, Neville tried to think of a way out of his turn. He wasn't exactly averse to kissing someone; he was, after all, a sixteen-year-old boy. No, his concern was the expression that was bound to cross the face of the person the bottle pointed to. He was as well aware of the lack of interest he inspired in the opposite sex as he was of the running joke he was to them. Not that he blamed them—he wasn't inclined toward clumsy, stuttering, academically deficient witches either. That didn't mean he wanted to advertise his undesirability before the entire DA.

Neville had been completely caught up in trying to conjure a reason, any reason at all, to leave when Parvati nudged him in the side. "Your turn, Neville," she chirped happily. A quick glance around the circle revealed a stunned Dean staring bemusedly at Parvati.

Swallowing, Neville turned his eyes on the bottle. It looked so innocuous, but to Neville, it was the instrument of yet another impending social humiliation.

"Oi, Nev, are you all right?" Ron asked. "You look a tad green."

As desperate as he was to get out of his turn, he knew that if he didn't go through with it that that would reflect badly on him, too. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. Reluctantly, Neville leaned forward, curled his fingertips around the pleasantly cool glass and spun the bottle. He watched in morbid fascination as it turned and turned. It seemed to slow down as his heart sped up. It eased to a stop on . . . "Ginny," Hermione declared.

He was going to be sick. Why? Why didn't it have to stop on the girl he'd had a crush on for the last two years? What had he done to cause Fate to aim its twisted sense of humor at him? Slowly getting to his feet, Neville made his way around the circle and knelt beside her.

Ginny laid a reassuring hand on his knee and smiled at him. Neville felt his heart flip in his chest even though it was just a friendly smile. Figuring this would be the only opportunity he'd ever get to kiss her, Neville decided not to waste it and cupped her face in his hands. Focusing solely on her brilliant, brown eyes, he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. They were as soft as he thought they'd be.

Neville's eyes fluttered closed as he settled his mouth firmly over hers. He moved his lips over them gently, discovering their full lushness before sweeping his tongue along the seam of her mouth. Ginny gasped and Neville leisurely ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of her lower lip. He was vaguely aware of the sound of a scuffle in the background but the feel of Ginny's hands gripping the front of his robes drove away everything but his awareness of her.

Slipping his tongue deeper into her mouth, he rubbed it along hers. She tasted of rich, warm chocolate and sweet buttercream frosting. He slid his fingers into the soft, silken hair at her nape, urging her closer as his thumbs caressed the line of her jaw. Lost in the headiness of having her in his arms, Neville took his time exploring the hidden crevices of Ginny's mouth. He swallowed her intoxicating whimpers and groaned when her hand curved around his neck.

His chest began to burn and Neville realized that he was running out of air. Slowly, he withdrew his tongue, delighted when she chased it into his mouth with hers. Tenderly, reluctantly, he pulled back, his lips leaving hers with a tiny, wet smack. He stared down at her as he waited for his heartbeat to return to normal. She sat there, eyes closed, lips parted, hand resting on the back of his neck. Gradually, her eyes opened and she stared up at him with wonder shining in her eyes.

Suddenly, he realized exactly what he'd done. Flushing a deep scarlet, Neville muttered, "I need to go . . . study . . . something." Releasing his hold on her, he scrambled to his feet and fled the room, oblivious to both the awed stares and Harry and Justin restraining a furious Ron.

Ginny watched the activity in a daze. She delicately fingered her swollen lips, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"Let me go," Ron bellowed, breaking into her reverie. "Did you _see _what he did to her? Right in front of me! He did it right in front of me!"

Stifling her smile, she said, "Leave off, Ron. It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal!" Ron had worked himself into such a state, a vein throbbed his forehead. "He . . . he . . ."

"Followed the rules. Now it's Ernie's turn."

As Ernie spun the bottle, Ginny stared at her lap to hide the smile that refused to leave her lips. She'd always suspected Neville had a thing for her. Now, thanks to the heart's desire spell she'd put on the bottle, she had a definite answer. And she knew just what to do with it.


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: And so I give in to peer pressure. Seriously, I never intended for this to be more than a one-shot but this came to me this afternoon and I just went with it, so here it is. Thanks for all the awesome reviews. And if Ginny seems OOC, I'm 95 percent sure that there's going to be a reason for it.

* * *

For the next few weeks, Neville avoided both Weasleys. He got up extra early or slept in so he wouldn't run into Ron, who still looked at him with a murderous glint in his eye. Having dropped Divination made it even easier to give his dorm mate a wide berth. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that nothing would happen as long as Neville stayed out of Ron's way. 

Ginny, on the other hand, proved much harder to evade. She sought him out, appearing out of nowhere and sitting beside him at lunch and dinner. Though she never mentioned their kiss, she'd taken to sitting a little closer to him than usual. Her voice was warmer, more intimate in a way that made Neville wish she meant it. Sometimes, she visited him at the greenhouses during her free period, asking him random questions about the plants he was tending. Unsure of what to make of the change in Ginny's behavior, he'd relied on his usual demeanor: the friend who didn't have a chance. If nothing else, it ensured that Ron, who'd gained quite a bit of muscle since joining the Quidditch team last year, wouldn't attempt to pummel him to a pulp.

Neville had gotten through this delicate dance unscathed though a bit of a nervous wreck. By the beginning of October, Ron had stopped glaring at him and the dormitory wasn't quite as dangerous as before. He'd just started to feel comfortable again when it happened. He'd been sitting at a table in the common room working on a paper for Snape (Professor Sprout insisted he keep the class since Herbology and potions were so intimately connected), when Ginny sat down across from him. He'd glanced up at her, flashed her a quick smile, and returned to his paper. As his knowledge of plants had increased, his marks in Snape's class had improved and he wanted to keep it that way.

They'd been sitting for ten minutes, Neville writing and Ginny reading, when she suddenly laid her hand on his arm. Amazed that he could feel the effect of her touch coursing through his entire body, he'd raised his eyes to hers. Looking a little uncertain, Ginny met his gaze and offered him a small smile.

He frowned slightly; it wasn't like Ginny to be tentative about much of anything. "Are you all right, Gin?" he asked, hoping that whatever she told him wasn't too bad.

For a second, she looked like she was going to be ill. Then she took a breath and nodded.

"Did you want to tell me something?" he prompted gently.

She shook her head. "No."

"Okay." Neville glanced back at his paper then set his quill down and focused on the girl in front of him. "What's the matter, Ginny?"

"Nothing," she said, her voice a little too loud. "I'm fine."

Neville didn't respond; he merely raised a skeptical but patient eyebrow.

"Really."

Though he didn't believe her, he didn't push. "All right," he said and turned back to his paper.

She removed her hand and went back to her reading. He tried not to notice but she was nervously twisting a lock of hair around her finger. She never did that. Reaching out, he stilled her hand. "Gin, what's going on?"

"Will you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?" she blurted, her overloud voice catching the attention of several surrounding Gryffindors.

"Uh," he said, surprised by the vehemence of her request, "okay. Sure. What are we going for? Are we getting a head start on your Christmas shopping?"

Ginny's mouth fell open. "No."

"A present for someone?" Neville guessed, hating the idea of helping her choose a gift for another boy. He'd done it before but, ever since the kiss, he'd begun to hope that her behavior indicated a certain liking for him. Now he realized that had just been wishful thinking. "Dean? Someone else, perhaps?"

"No," she repeated, shaking her head. "It's just that there's a trip this weekend and I thought we could go together. You know, like a date."

Neville just stared at her. Had Ginny Weasley just asked him out? And, if she had, why had she been so nervous? He was just Neville Longbottom. He didn't make anyone nervous. As he tried to remember how to form a coherent sentence, Ginny flushed and she blinked as tears filled her eyes. "Forget I asked," she mumbled as she packed her books, got up and bolted up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, leaving him shocked and confused.

* * *

"Sit _down_, Ron," Hermione insisted as he stood to make his way across the common room. "It's none of your concern." 

"None of my concern?" he hissed at her incredulously. "Ginny's my sister and Neville just made her run crying from the common room. It most certainly is my concern."

She rolled her eyes and jerked him back into his seat by his sleeve. "We're talking about Neville. Whatever is going on is probably just a misunderstanding."

"I don't care," he countered stubbornly.

"She's old enough to handle it herself."

Ron looked furious at this. "She's fifteen!" he exclaimed, watching Neville pack his belongings and move slowly toward their dorm. He tracked the boy's progress, mentally devising the perfect way to extract an explanation and a promise that Nev would leave his little sister alone.

"She's right, you know," Harry said softly.

"What?" Ron's head whipped around to stare dumbfounded at his best friend.

"Ginny's old enough to take care of herself," Harry stated, not the least bit intimidated by the thunderous expression on Ron's face. "She's old enough to make her own choices. And if she's chosen Neville, you don't have anything to worry about. He'd never hurt her."

"Then how do you explain what just happened?" Ron demanded.

Harry shrugged. "A misunderstanding like Hermione said."

"But . . ."

"Maybe," Harry interrupted, closing his book and grabbing his bookbag, "you should pay attention to what's going on in your own life instead of trying to run Ginny's." With that, he followed Neville to the dorm.

Ron turned toward Hermione, who looked just as astonished as he did. Finally, he said, "What was that all about?"

"I don't know," she murmured with a bewildered shake of her head before turning serious. "But he has a point."

"Hermione . . ."

"Finish your paper," she instructed. "I'm sure we'll all end up in enough trouble throughout the year. The least we can do is try to keep up our marks."


	3. Chapter Three

She couldn't believe she'd been so wrong. Ginny lay face down on her bed, trying not to cry and bawling anyway. And why shouldn't she? She'd just asked out Neville Longbottom, longtime friend, newly developed hottie, and the sweetest boy she'd ever met, and he'd looked at her as if she'd grown another head. It would have been different if she hadn't let herself like him, really like him. But she had and she did and now he knew she liked him. And he didn't like her back.

How could she have been so wrong? The bottle had pointed quite clearly at her. Hadn't the heart's desire charm worked? Surely, Neville didn't kiss just anyone like that. It had to have worked. She'd put too much effort, too much hope into the whole thing for it to fail.

Sighing heavily, Ginny flopped on her back and stared at her canopy. Maybe she'd gone about the whole thing wrong. Maybe she should have just asked Neville if he liked her instead of engaging in all of this covert activity. It was just that the idea of liking someone again scared her. It never worked out for her. Harry had been unattainable and not a little dense. Michael had been unreasonable, unwilling or unable to agree to disagree. And Dean, while he was a lovely, lovely boy, was just too different somehow. It was like he'd held on to his muggle roots much more firmly than Hermione had and Ginny had often found it difficult to relate to him.

None of that was the case with Neville. When she was with him, she felt like he truly saw her. He listened. He understood. But somehow the fact that he trusted her with his thoughts and tribulations and secrets meant the most to her. No one ever had before. It made her feel special and connected. To him.

She sniffled, wiping her eyes as the door opened and several of her dorm mates trickled in. Ginny turned on her side, away from the others, and burrowed under the covers. She should just talk to him tomorrow, apologize for behaving like an idiot, tell him that she wanted to stay friends. Tears pricked her eyes again at the possibility that he wouldn't want to be her friend anymore. That it would be too weird being friends with someone who liked him _like that_ when he obviously didn't feel the same. Why did life have to be so difficult?

* * *

"What's wrong, Neville?" Hermione asked as she sat beside the boy at breakfast two days later.

Neville shrugged. "Nothing."

Hermione glanced at Neville's breakfast. Torn bits of toast were slowly sinking into an untouched bowl of porridge. "Sure. Clearly everything is perfectly fine."

Propping his chin in his hand with a forlorn huff, Neville said sulkily, "It's Ginny. And Ron. One won't talk to me and the other is back to giving me evil looks. I swear if he could kill me with a glance, he would."

"Don't worry about Ron," Hermione said, trying not to smile at Neville's accurate description of Ron's behavior. "He's just being a big brother. You know how protective he is of Ginny."

"Yeah."

Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Neville look so glum. Terrified, intimidated, confused, insecure, sure, but not sad. Despite Neville's generally awkward demeanor, he wasn't prone to melancholia. It was disconcerting. So Hermione did what she always did in situations that bothered her. She decided to fix it. "What happened with Ginny, Neville?"

Neville's head jerked up, his expression one of such utter shock that Hermione felt like the worst kind of friend ever. Surely, she'd asked Neville something of a personal nature before. "Oh, you…you wouldn't want to he…"

Apparently not. "If I didn't want to hear it, I wouldn't have asked," Hermione said kindly.

After a moment's uncertainty, Neville told her about Ginny asking him out. "I didn't know what to do," the boy continued, his eyes flicking down the table to where she sat actively avoiding his gaze. "I never thought I had a chance with her. Not really. And now I've gone and made a muck of everything and I miss her."

"Perhaps you should ask _her _out," Hermione suggested after a moment's thought.

"She. Won't. Talk. To. Me," Neville reminded her, exasperation sharpening his voice.

"Maybe you could send her a note or something like that."

Neville just swirled his spoon in the cold, stiff porridge. "As if she even still wants to go with me."

Hermione noticed Ginny staring at Neville while he dejectedly played with his food. It was perfectly clear that Ginny was just as miserable as Neville. "She likes you, Nev."

"Or maybe she just feels sorry for poor, dumpy Neville," the boy spat bitterly.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise; Neville was far from dumpy. Surely he realized that? Watching the sad boy continue to play with his food, Hermione decided that enough was enough. If Neville was going to wallow in self-pity and Ginny was going to spend the rest of term avoiding Neville, then it was up to Hermione to do something about the situation. Maybe once their romance was underway, she could turn her attention toward her own confusing relationships.


	4. Chapter Four

Neville ran his hand over his robes once more. They were still in place and wrinkle-free. Hermione had told him he looked fine, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to make sure. After all, they said every little bit helped.

Hermione had announced at breakfast that she was going to help him make things right with the redhead. She'd wasted no time setting a plan into action. "It's simple, really," she'd told him as they'd gathered their books and headed off for their first class of the day. "The two of you just need to sit down together and talk this out."

It did sound simple, but Neville wasn't sure he could tell Ginny how he felt without mucking it up. Still, he was willing to try if it meant getting Ginny to talk to him again. So he followed Hermione later that night and wondered vaguely where she was taking him. It wasn't until they'd left the castle and were halfway across the lawns before Neville realized where they were going. "Why are we going to the greenhouses?"

"I told Ginny to meet me there."

"Won't she think that odd?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not necessarily."

"All right," Neville conceded. "But why…"

"Nev," Hermione interrupted firmly, "I chose the greenhouse as a meeting place because I thought you'd feel comfortable there."

"Oh." Frowning sheepishly, Neville ducked his head and ran his hand over his hair. "Right. Sorry."

Hermione stopped just short of Greenhouse Three and looked at Neville, an apologetic smile on her face. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just a little nervous." She must have noticed his bewildered expression because she blushed and waved her hand as if dismissing her statement. "You're nervous, I'm sure. I'm…sorry."

Neville nodded and pointed toward the greenhouse. "Is she in here?"

"She should be," Hermione answered.

With a deep breath and a sharp nod, Neville squared his shoulders and entered the glass building.

"It's about time you…showed…up." Ginny gaped at the sight of him, confirming his assumption that Hermione hadn't told her he'd be the one meeting her. The blush and hasty glance away told him that she probably wouldn't have come had she known.

"Hi." _Charming, Neville_, he chided himself. _Positively charming._

"What are you doing here?" she asked, glancing over his shoulder as if hoping to see someone else.

Neville followed her gaze and was surprised to see Hermione standing outside, her back to the glass as if she were standing guard. Realizing he was on his own, he turned back to Ginny. "We need to talk."

Her eyes snapped to his face. "I thought you made yourself perfectly clear," she said, her voice a mixture of coldness and hurt.

It stung him that she'd interpreted his disbelief as disinterest. Seeing the wounded pride and vulnerability in her pretty, brown eyes was much worse. "You're wrong," he said softly, edging toward her as if she were a particularly volatile creature, which wasn't too far from the truth. "I couldn't have 'made myself perfectly clear' because I didn't say anything."

"Yes, you did," she countered, her attention now focused solely on him. "You basically said the only reason we're ever go out together would be to shop for other people. When I said it would be a date, you looked at me as if I'd said something utterly ridiculous!" Ginny folded her arms and glared at him. "You're not interested. I don't know how you could be clearer than that."

He came to a stop in front of her. He considered touching her but decided she wasn't ready for that. "You surprised me, Gin. I never thought you'd like me enough to want to go on a date with me. That's why I asked those questions. That's why I didn't say anything when you said it would be a date."

Ginny shook her head, a stubborn expression on her face. "But you've been avoiding me."

"No, you've been avoiding me," Neville gently corrected. "I've been trying to figure out how to fix things with you without looking like a complete prat." Smiling awkwardly, he continued, "It doesn't seem to be going well."

Ginny stared at him, her brown eyes huge and unsure as if she'd been Stupefied. Neville waited, hoping Ginny would say something, anything, even if that something was that she'd changed her mind and thought they'd be better off as just friends. When the silence stretched past surprised to uncomfortable, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Fidgeting surely wouldn't help the situation. He'd just decided to cut his losses when Ginny took a step toward him. "Are you saying, then," she began slowly, "that the idea of being my date to Hogsmeade doesn't repulse you?"

"Being with you could never repulse me."

"And if I told you I'd like to spend more time with you," she said as she took another step, "as more than friends, you'd be all right with that?"

It was the perfect opening. Determined not to blow his second chance, Neville stepped toward Ginny, closing the distance between them, and took one of her hands in his. "I'd much rather you told me you want to be my girlfriend, but I'll settle for more than friends."

She gave a startled laugh before slipping her arms around his waist. "I'd like very much to be your girlfriend, Neville Longbottom."

Neville grinned and rested his forehead against hers. "That's great to hear."

--------------------------------------------------

Hermione waited until she was certain Ginny and Neville had made up before heading back toward the castle and the common room. She hoped the boys were still there. They desperately needed to talk.

Ever since her birthday party, things had been strained among them. Both Harry and Ron were unusually tentative and solicitous around her. A part of her wanted to put it off as weirdness. After all, the bottle had pointed at her for both of them and kissing your best friend was always a bit discomforting. But that didn't explain the growing coldness between Harry and Ron. With the war escalating, the last thing they needed was dissension among the ranks.

As she climbed the various stairways to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione paused to examine her own feelings. There had always been…something between her and Ron. Something beneath the bickering and the silent treatments and hurt feelings that made Hermione wonder what a romance with the redhead would be like.

Harry, on the other hand, was much easier to get along with when he wasn't gong through some stressed-out, adolescent, moody, hormonal stage. He wasn't nearly as funny as Ron though, in his own way, just as volatile. The thing was Harry made her want to take care of him. He was so reckless (not that Ron helped; always egging Harry on) and, at the same time, so damaged. Headstrong and vulnerable. For all of her resilience, she didn't know if she could be in a romantic relationship with Harry.

Of course, she could just be flattering herself. Whatever was going on between Harry and Ron might not have anything to do with her at all. It wasn't inconceivable; they didn't tell her everything. But she doubted it. Her execution may not always be spot-on, but her instincts were pretty good.

Distractedly, she gave the Fat Lady the password and climbed through the portrait hole. Her boys were waiting for her in the usual spot: the overstuffed armchairs in front of the fireplace. The chair between them was empty and they weren't speaking or looking at each other. In fact, Hermione was positive the middle chair was empty due more to the chilly atmosphere between Harry and Ron than to any effort made to save it for her. She certainly didn't want to sit near the two of them. However, she had no choice. She was the one who'd called a meeting.

"Hey," she said quietly, settling into her seat. The boys mumbled back, casting furtive glances at her and each other. Usually, she'd try to handle the situation with a little delicacy, but something about their skittishness grated on her. "What's going on with you two?" she demanded.

"Nothing," Harry grumbled while Ron asked, "What are you on about?" with a perplexed expression on his face.

Hermione sighed inwardly. She had hoped they'd simply tell her what their problem was; however, that was clearly not going to happen. In keeping with the direct approach she'd adopted, she said, "You've both been acting strange since my birthday party. And don't say you're not," she admonished when they opened their mouths. "Just tell me the truth."

After a long silence, in which the boys stared bewilderedly at her, Harry ventured, "Do you, er, like either of us in a more than…platonic way?"

So it was what she'd thought. She clasped one of Harry's hands and one of Ron's. "I love you both very much," she began slowly, "but don't you think it would be in our best interests not to complicate things?"

More silence followed and Hermione was sure all hell was going to break loose once they began to speak.

Finally, Ron said, "You couldn't just say you aren't interested?"

"Yeah," Harry chimed in, cutting off Hermione's reply. "This isn't the time to be reasonable, Hermione."

"What are you two talking about?" she demanded, thoroughly confused.

"You love us…" Ron began.

"As friends…" Harry continued.

"But nothing more…"

"Expect for maybe as brothers," Harry finished with a grimace.

"I do not think of you as brothers," Hermione said hotly, not entirely sure why she was so upset. "You're both very attractive and fanciable. But I'm not going to choose one of you when we're in the middle of a war. After all, it's quite clear that we're stronger when we're getting along than when we're divided. And you," she snatched her hand out of Harry's grasp and jabbed him in the chest, "are going to need all the support you can get. So the both of you are simply going to have to put any romantic feelings you have for me on the shelf until this whole mess is over. Do you understand me?"

She glared at both boys and they gaped back. Slowly, they nodded.

"Good." Standing, Hermione primly smoothed her skirt and before facing her closest friends. She let her face gradually relax into a fond, intimate smile before saying, "I'll do the same." With that, she turned and went up to the girls' dormitory. Voldemort couldn't be defeated soon enough.


End file.
